not crayon not water
but watered down
to drown that claw scratch
of its taste it is
most marvellous
sometimes a shocking
mark made here on the page
here here here here
just where my finger points
to whatever past
symbol we all agreed
on then when need
made need obey
for everyone
sometimes a mark memory
asks for from its past
sometimes a real jewel
that fell to earth and
rang as a star and rings still
so get it back
it’s written down
it can’t be difficult
unless you’re blind
unless you’re dead
and even then it is
most marvellous

Playing to the heartbeat
Tub thumping Drumbeat
Overwhelming Synth wave
Channelling the Bass slave
Guitar jams, room shaking
Screaming voices, larynx aching

Cello in the background
Violins make mellow sound
The Snare an unholy snap
A Tambourine a mighty slap
The Cymbals crash
A Tom Tom smash
Chord change impending
Middle eight unending

Digital and analogue
Recording in its final slog
Final verse is looming
With the Bass Drum booming
The soloist’s precision
Fulfils the final vision

Aduain

In the audio recording you sent me
An hour of touching yourself
punishment for misbehavior

you giggled and cried at the same time

The "Oh, ****"'s
"dear, God"'s
They built up inside

screaming for the pain to stop
With a trembling whimper.
"This is fun, but I can't wait 'till it's over"

If only you had said this sooner
In the daylight
We could have known
Time was running out.

We were never so honest
as our ***
Not even to ourselves

You punched your mother in the face for trans rights.
you're really moving up
found out you had ******,
want to switch majors
skip town
leave your girlfriend and move in
with the affair
Good job.
you thought it was all an uphill from the bottom
like a country song
lost your grandma
lost your daughter
lost your job.
the roller coaster isn't that simple.
you'll lose your whole life here, kid.
go get tested, you'll figure it out.

smoke cigarettes, get a psychiatrist.
have another panic attack, they're good for ya.
punch your mother in the face, don't even get locked up
count the cuts on your hands
watch the blood pool around your knuckles

you did it because she wouldn't let you call your partner "they".
"Call her an It if you have to, just not they."
well you should have taken that as signature.
left her there wrong.
been higher and mightier,
but you recorded her.
caught it all on tape.
and now she's blocking the door.

She's softer than you remember
weaker
it isn't hard to get her off you
to move her
she can't hold you back.
she can't even cry.
you scream and she won't listen
still you're wrong
millions of voices are wrong to her
"society doesn't think that way nick.
YOU think that way."
"they'll stop saying they, if
YOU stop saying they."

Maybe that's why you fought so **** hard that night.
protecting the audio recording.
of you leading an army
alone
at your own mother.

A recording booth is nothing more than another padded room.

© Matthew Harlovic

A dream has come true today.

Dressed in white, with a blue scarf,
Everything seems just cool as can be,
Looking so sweet to see.

An Angel sits on a tall chair, In front of a microphone.

Glass walls have ears, and there are no hands on the clock.

Happy as can be.
The Angel sings with a;
soulful, beautiful, sweet, pure, powerful, strong, pure, upbeat, lush, charismatic, different,  appealing...
Voice.

To children.
From out of the book of Worship
She sings of love, hope and friendship,

On this dreamy day.

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

For anyone who is so inclined:

https://soundcloud.com/apexparadigm/sets/sunrise